Buddy

We love the birds in our garden. They sing to us from early morning till late at night. The chorus begins before dawn with mot mots, wood rails, and clay-colored robbins. The early morning choir is replaced later by parakeets, wrens and sparrows, kiskadees, saltators, woodpeckers, doves, meadowlarks, and (my favorite) melodious blackbirds. In the evening it is robins and mot mots again, followed by pauraques and owls. It would be easy to take these songsters for granted; but to live without their various and melodious songs would be unthinkable, and tragic.

There is one black bird, not a very pretty one, who's call sounds a little like one of those rubber squeeze toys. "Ti-ho, ti-ho," he says in rapid fire. That is why the Costa Ricans call him a tijo. To ornithologists he is the groove-billed ani. Anis are in the cuckoo family. A common characteristic of cuckoos, according to the late Alexander Skutch, author of A Guide to the Birds of Costa Rica, is their feet are zygodactyl -- two toes pointed forward, the other two pointed back. Anis have lumpy-looking beaks and with slightly humpy shoulders, have a skulking look about them. In the mornings they sit on fences and branches spreading their wings to dry in the sun. They live in groups of two to fifteen, and nest communally. They hang out around cattle, hunting insects that are stirred up as the cattle move about.

Despite the anis' homely appearance, I have grown fond of them. One in particular hangs out near me when I work in the garden. I call him Buddy. When I dig in the garden he is only a few feet away, looking for worms and grubs. When I mow the grass he darts in and out getting grasshoppers, sometimes only a few inches in front of the mower. Being anthropomorphic by nature, I talk to Buddy as I work, sometimes warning him not to come too close to the mower. He cocks his head to one side as I talk to him. Or, at least, I think he does. I look forward to Buddy's arrival every morning in the garden. On the few days he fails to appear, it feels kind of lonely. I think Buddy is my pal. I hope he feels the same about me.

Happy gardening!

Grass (Zacate)

PART I: Getting Rid of It

I think you'd rather hear about hibiscus, or heliconias, but I've had limited experience with these tropical blooms. However, I've had a lot of experience with, and success with, grass. Not exactly a romantic subject, but a fact of life for almost all property owners.

At our old home in Clemson, South Carolina, we had lots of grass; too much, in fact, and we got rid of a lot of it. It was mostly fescue, but there was one big patch of centipede, and another of Bermuda (ugh!).  Lots of weeds were mixed in, including crab grass, violets, English plantain, dandelions, chickweed, and henbit, just to mention the most common. The former owner (Lanier Cawley) summed up his attitude toward grass as follows, "If it's green and you can cut it with a lawnmower, I call it grass." A sensible approach, and one we followed religiously. Grass was not to be fussed over; it provided a contrast to the shrubs, trees, and flowers, and gave space to stand back and appreciate the garden.

When we arrived at our new home site in Costa Rica we discovered a plethora of plants, but African star grass ( Cynodon nlemfuensis) predominated. Star grass, closely related to Bermuda grass (Cynodon dactylon), is an invasive exotic species, and a curse. I call it "Bermuda grass on steroids." It was introduced to Costa Rica as a forage grass for cattle. But my neighbor says his dairy cows prefer almost any grass to star grass. Unfortunately, it out-competes everything, and can take over a lot in no time. It would even give kudzu a run for its money. It multiplies by sending out runners, which are like steel cables, and can grow several inches in a day. The runners can climb twelve feet or more up a tree or fence. I have pulled up runners over 30 feet long. You can't plant any other kind of grass in it or near it, and if you should plant flowers or shrubs, you'll have to edge them at least once a month to keep the star grass from taking it over. If we left our lot for one year, when we returned I'm sure the only thing left would be star grass. Everything else would have been taken over and smothered by it.

Okay. So, before we plant any grass, or ANYTHING, for that matter, we must first get rid of the star grass. My gardener recommends two applications of Round Up mixed with diesel. This is not an option if we consider ourselves in any way, shape, or form, organic gardeners. Another way is to to dig it up. This is very slow and tedious.  Another option is to bulldoze it. We plan to do this to a section once the next dry season arrives. I'll report back on the results.
 

Black plastic put down to kill African star grass

Another option is to cover it with black plastic. This is an organic option, and can be effective. I have had various various levels of success with black plastic. The first time we tried it, we only put down one layer of plastic, did not wait long enough, and got rid of nothing. The second time it worked. We put down two layers, waited a full three months, and VOILA, the star grass was obliterated. The third time we did it (we thought we were pros now), it didn't work. Star grass can live under black plastic!!! The difference, we later realized, was that the second (and successful) time, it was the dry season. The third time, it was the rainy season.

So, to get rid of African star grass, put down a double layer of black plastic, put it down at the beginning of the dry season, anchor it with lots of stones (otherwise the high winds will blow it away), and leave it down for a full three months.

Happy gardening!

Why Costa Rica?

Costa Rica is a democratic, peace-loving nation located in a beautiful tropical setting in Central America. Its citizens have set aside approximately 25% of the land as nature preserves. It has no army and spends more on education than it does on national defense.

I first arrived here as a Peace Corp volunteer in 1968. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with the country, particularly the Meseta Central. My assigned location was not in the Meseta, however. It was La Cuesta, a village of 500 people (that was about 120 adults and 380 children) sandwiched between the United Fruit Co. banana plantations at Laurel and the Panamanian border at Paso Canoas (where the InterAmerican Highway crosses). At that time La Cuesta was poor and primitive, with no running water, and the only electricity came from a small generator that provided current to light the local bar, and (most importantly) to run the jukebox (la rockola). The generator ran from sundown till 9 p.m. most nights, and until midnight on Saturday. La Cuesta was hot and flat, muddy most of the year, and dusty for a few months in the dry season. There were about a half dozen cars and trucks. Everyone else walked, or rode a horse or bicycle. La Cuesta got 150 inches of rain a year, which came mostly in torrential downpours in the afternoon. Despite the heat and mud, I loved the rural lifestyle, the forest and the farms, and quickly became endeared to the country folk (campesinos). I fell in love with the first grade school teacher, Maria Ramirez Mora, from San Rafael de Heredia, in the highlands. After a brief courtship we were married in her hometown.

Through Maria I got to know the highland area. San Rafael was, and still is, a coffee growing area. It was much more modern than La Cuesta, and was a lot cooler and less rainy too. That's when I got the idea of staying and living in Costa Rica. But I had no money and no clue about how I might make a livelihood here. I extended my Peace Corp service for a year and then Maria and I moved back to the States.

I dreamed about going back to Costa Rica someday, but continued to follow my new career as an academic librarian. Maria was adamantly opposed to moving back, so I kept my thoughts mostly to myself.  For a five year period (1997 - 2001) my brother Tom and I led an annual hiking tour of Costa Rica for the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club. This really got me thinking (and plotting) about returning to Costa Rica someday.

In 2006 I finally convinced Maria to move back. I would be retiring in a few years, so I didn't need to start a business, although we did give serious thought to running a bed and breakfast. The first question was, where? We both agreed that it was nice to visit the beach once in a while, but we didn't like hot weather, so that ruled that out (plus, we couldn't afford beach-front property, which is quite expensive in Costa Rica). We wanted to live near her family (she had ten brothers and sisters at the time) and did not want to live in the city. We agreed on Concepcion, a rural section of San Rafael.

I had visited Concepcion a couple of times, but under adverse circumstances (once at night and the other time in a rainstorm). In 1999 I saw it in the best possible light, and fell in love with it. Our tour group was staying in a lodge high on the side of Barva Volcano, and from there we were going to drive to Puerto Viejo de Talamanca on the Caribbean coast. I was bemoaning the fact that we would have to go through San Jose (which I LOATHED) to one of my brothers-in-law, when he said, "You don't have to go through San Jose. You can take a shortcut through San Rafael and then through a village called Concepcion." The day we did the drive was one of those blissfully beautiful days -- sunny, warm, breezy with little white puffy clouds just above our heads. We drove over rolling green hills, Barva Volcano towering above us to the left and the Meseta Central and the capital San Jose far below us to the right. We passed cute, colorful farm houses stuck amid coffee plantations, cow pastures, and well-tended vegetable gardens. Tropical flowers were blooming everywhere. Then we came to the village square -- a Catholic church, a pub, soccer field, one small store, and the schoolhouse. It reminded me of a village in Ireland. The only differences were, here the people spoke Spanish and, instead of drinking Guinness, they drank rum. It was then and there that I decided that, gee, this would be a really nice place to retire to.

Happy gardening.

A Visit from Gerardo

Gerardo Gonzalez examines my sick mango tree

Many plants have not been looking well since the heavy rains began in July, particular after the 3.7-inch downpour of July 20. Almost everything planted in the smaller upper section with good, rich soil ("tierra negra") is doing well. But, many of the plants in the larger lower section are looking poorly. This lower section has what I call "upside-down soil." It had relatively good soil when we bought the lot in 2006, but then the builder ended up with a humongous pile of red clay, which he proceeded to bulldoze over the top of the good soil. I was back in the States at the time and had no idea what was going on.  The red clay averages about 8 inches deep, and in places is over a foot deep. NOT GOOD.

When my gardener and I planted trees and shrubs we dug large holes and filled them with good soil. But what happened was, when it began to rain hard, the water could not penetrate the red clay and ran downhill until it reached the good soil surrounding the trees and shrubs, and filled them up with water. These took hours or perhaps even days to drain. So, roots died and plants became stressed.

Last week I called Jorge the gardener and he and his helper came over and dug drainage ditches around almost everything. Another thing I have done is, when I make my potting soil I am adding a lot more sand to it, as well as some lime (carbonato de calcio). I hope these two measures will help the plants through the rainy season.

Okay, so yesterday was Mother's Day (at least it was here in Costa Rica) and my wife's sister Helia and her husband Gerardo Gonzalez came for a visit. Gerardo is a retired agronomist. I explained to him what the problem was, as I saw it, and showed him the drainage ditches. He said this was a good idea. (By the way, Gerardo is the only Costa Rican who believes me when I say I have lousy soil. All the others say I have excellent soil because the village of Concepcion (where we live) is well known for its rich, black volcanic soil. When I put a chunk of red clay in their hands and say, "Tell me this is good, soil," it seems to make no impression on them.) Then I showed him my two biggest disappointments -- the mango tree and the avocado tree. They had been doing so, so well, and suddenly they began to look sad -- droopy leaves and dark splotches on the new shoots. Gerardo quickly said, "probably nematodes, and certainly fungi." He said I should have sprayed the trees a couple of weeks ago, but there was still a chance of saving them if I did something right away.

So, today I went to the La Libertad Agricultural Co-op in Heredia and talked to the man there. I showed him a branch from each of the sick trees.He recommended Promet Cobre (copper) 250cc Phyton. He said I should mix one milaliter in one liter of water and spray it on every two weeks until the problem had cleared up. I did this this afternoon, and am keeping my fingers crossed.

I also planted a row of Silver King corn this afternoon. More on this later.

Weather today (Monday)
Mostly cloudy, calm morning; high, gusty winds and spray from the east in late morning. Overcast in the afternoon with a few, brief showers.
High - 71
Low - 67

Weather yesterday (Sunday)
Sunny, calm morning; cloudy afternoon with showers in later afternoon.
High - 75
Low - 66

Happy gardening!

Plumeria

A Beautiful sunny morning (a rare occurrence this time of year). Irazu and Turrialba volcanoes clear in the east. Ate breakfast on the porch, listened to "Weekend Edition," and watched small planes from airport in Pavas head out to the hinterlands.

Plumeria rubra -- Today I finished the project of improving soil around the plumeria behind the guesthouse. This involved removing the red clay and replacing it with a sandy loam with plenty of organic material, and digging a small drainage ditch on the downhill side. I had planted the plumeria in April when the rains started. I knew it needed good drainage, but did not have the energy to dig an adequate size hole, so I planted it on a fairly steep slope and made a hole 18" wide X 12" deep, which I later realized was not nearly large enough, given the fact that the hillside was solid red clay. The plumeria (about a foot tall) sprouted new leaves and seemed to be doing fairly well. Today, as I was working on enlarging the hole I accidentally bumped the tree and it toppled over. IT HAD NO ROOTS!!! I dug around and found a cluster of 8 big, fat white grubs. The tree still seems to be doing well, despite its lack of roots. At least the grubs are gone now and it has some good loamy soil with adequate drainage. Plumeria is one of my favorite tropical trees and I will give it plenty of TLC in hopes one day I will be able to smell its wonderfully fragrant blossoms.

Corn -- In preparation for next week's planting I dug up the raised bed with a "machete de suelo" and looked for grubs. Only found one, which surprised me because I thought I had a grub infestation. Go figure.

Grass -- By midmorning the sun had dried the grass, so I took advantage to cut various sections.

Weather -- Sunny morning; cloudy by midday; light rains began with thunder at 2 p.m.; High - 71, low - 67.

Happy gardening!